


Sex With a Ghost | Washingroe

by internationalbitchboy



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Body Horror, Body Image, Choking, Delusions, Guns, Hallucinations, Josh is hallucinating, Josh is the only survivor, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Schizophrenia, Washingroe, ghost - Freeform, mike is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:24:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23935369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/internationalbitchboy/pseuds/internationalbitchboy
Summary: A calloused finger picks at the wood underneath. What used to be a dining table turned to nothing but pricks and wood. It's not used anymore. When was the last time he ate? Why does he spend his days asking questions and letting what's in the corner answer-"You should eat something."
Relationships: Mike Munroe/Josh Washington
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	Sex With a Ghost | Washingroe

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, this is my first work on here and I had to write my boys  
> This is an au where Josh is the only one that survived the night and he's hallucinating Mike  
> I'm well aware it's a dead fandom with an even dead-er ship but I just wanted to do something during quarantine,  
> stay safe everyone

It's cold. The walls are cold..the ground is colder. The air is cold. 

He's cold. Lips chapped, blended so well with his skin. The green has since faded from his eyes, they're so..sunken. Maybe he's dead..When was the last time he checked for pulse? When was the last time he lived? Does a pulse indicate life..at all? 

Am I alive or am I just breathing?

He asks frequently, but he doesn't want the answer. Something always answers, he doesn't want to hear it but he's told. He doesn't want to admit it, but he knows.

A calloused finger picks at the wood underneath. What used to be a dining table turned to nothing but pricks and wood. It's not used anymore. When was the last time he ate? Why does he spend his days asking questions and letting what's in the corner answer-

"You should eat something."

Joshua jumps at the voice, a frantic movement, he dared feel comfortable in the silence for a little too long. Pulse slowed as soon as it quickened.

He shouldn't be scared anymore,

right?

"What do you want?"

The figure deep within frowned. He bit back too hard, this time. Disappointment evident, the disapproving scowl only pushed Joshua further into a state of fear.

Bite your tongue.

"I wanted to visit you but clearly you don't want company."

Bite.

"What-"

Your.

"Do you-"

Tongue.

"-want, Mike?"

Before he does.

Josh recognizes a few flashes of anger in the mixture of cocoa colored eyes. They fade, Mike smiles. It's cold..Colder than the room.

Colder than Josh.

He can feel himself shiver, he can't think his words through. 

It's not real, why are you scared?

A different voice buzzes from underneath. Accent so familiar yet he can't quite put his finger to it..Something of an A. J. Hill. Perhaps someone he knew. Why not anymore?

"You're scared. Don't hide it."

Mike was closer now. Sitting on what was once a sofa. Now bitten, and messier than one's mind. Josh was seated down on his disheveled mattress. Topless, for someone so cold..he never had it within him to have the decency to put on a shirt..It's his charm, probably. 

Mike's appearance greatly contrasted his. Though Washington's curly hair had been unkempt, his undernourished body free for what lies within to see, skin and bones one of it's own, he'd been feeling anorectic. He wasn't in any rush to get up. Mirroring him, sat Michael. His hair looked thoroughly brushed out, styled. The jeans he sported went along with his poet shirt. He resembled of a prince, so beautiful but something sinister hid behind the charming smile he wore.

"I'm not scared of you, you're not real." Building up his walls only to see them crumble beneath him was what always happened. He was fooling himself, more than anyone. 

Whatever lie his tongue spewed was meant to only trick himself. 

"My existence is none of your concern, you're seeing me, aren't you? That's all the proof I need."

The first rock was thrown. His metaphorical wall began to crumble. He was right wasn't he? Who was Josh to mess with what is reality. No one knows if their reality is really the reality. So in reality..he wasn't crazy. He doesn't answer, Mike continues.

"I missed you, Josh." His voice softens. But it's distorted underneath. There's discreetness, one he can't describe behind the voice. There's someone else. 

"Leave..leave me alone." Josh starts off as passive as his frantic heart allows him. He doesn't want to hear it. Whatever his mind perceives as a reality, is not one he wants to live within.

The next time Josh looks up, Mike is close..About two or so feet away from him. His shirt is gone, too. His hair isn't as tidy..but he looks as ethereal as ever. 

"You didn't miss me?" It seemed his feet had given in as he crouched to the floor, eye to eye with Josh. "It gets so lonely without you, Josh."

The way he says his name..it makes him want to throw himself at something. It'd be something of nails to a chalkboard, like a fork, slowly tearing through a porcelain plate. Josh blenched under his gaze. It's getting colder.

Why..why..

Someone from behind him began to chant..a requiem of sorts. So melodic, a feminine touch, it had to be one of them. 

Josh quickly turns around to look, his eyes away from Mike. 

And he was met with no one..nothing. But something warm burned against the skin on his back, something was in the way when he backed up. A fear set up.

If he's not real, how could he..

"Why'd ya do it, Josh?"

Joshua whirled at a speed, met with saddened browns peering down at him. Mike was beginning to look messier, almost matching Josh's state. 

His skin is so warm..why is he so cold inside?

"I..I didn't do anything." His teeth clenched as he tried to move away, back onto the mattress, he felt his own skin touch against his chest, he fumbled with the sheets. 

"Why'd you want us to die?" Mike's saddened state arose the tension of the room. It was clear from how his voice shook that he was growing impatient. 

Against his fingers, he felt the cold metal of what he was scrambling for. Josh pulls out a revolver. The mold of the grip felt so familiar within his fingers. He felt the metal against each crease on his finger, each print. Outlining a memory that will be imprinted on that gun's history for it's lasting time. 

The barrel of the gun, right at it's opening pointed forwards. His hands were shaking, he couldn't keep it at a point, though he tried to keep it right to Michael's forehead. This earned a laugh from the meant-to-be recipient of the bullet. Michael's laughter grew in volume, with it grew Josh's uncertainty.

"Really, Josh? You're going to shoot me?" This twisted version of Mike knew where each button was and exactly which one to push. 

"Was killing me once not enough?" Joshua shook at the sound of his voice, his eyes were shut as he pushed back his cry. 

"I didn't kill you!" Josh attempted, his voice was loud. "I did..I did not kill you, Michael!" With closed eyes he pointed the barrel up to his own chin. Pointer playing with the trigger guard, the crevices of his finger feeling each detail of the molded metal. 

Munroe only seemed amused by the scene unfolded. "Is that your escape, Josh? Putting a bullet through your head? Is that how you're gonna apologize to all those people you hurt playing puppet master? Your apology for being passed out drunk when your poor sisters died?" 

Each word stung more and more, like a needle being pushed deeper inside his muscles. 

A bullet isn't an escape.

You have to suffer for all the pain you've caused.

This proves you're a coward.

"Oh and well, we all know you're too scared to pull the trigger." 

I dare you.

Pull it, I dare you.

Coward!

You're a coward, Josh.

You're gonna pay.

You need help.

Coward!

But he just..he doesn't want to die, he's scared to die-

Every sound was silenced in a second, the thrilling, metal sound of the revolver silenced everyone. Josh didn't know where he shot. His eyes were shut, he didn't want to see where his fate laid. 

But he was sure it wasn't himself. He pointed away and hopefully at Mike. A laugh emerged from the ringing. 

"You missed."

"Why won't you leave me alone?!" Joshua cried out, pleading with the captor of his mind. The newly formed hole in the wall spoke for itself, he had failed to rid of himself, and failed to rid of what's troubling him within.

You even failed that.

His fingers undo themselves from the trigger, away from the grip. With the clank of the metal hitting the floor, the only sound prominent, away from the whispers and yells was the cold..soulless laughter coming from Mike.

A calloused thumb began smoothly running down Josh's neck. It contrasted with body heat. Joshua was cold, his skin temperature would match someone deceased, if he were stuck within the low depths of snow. Michael on the other hand, was warm..no, not warm, hot. When his fingers first began wrapping around Josh's neck, the Washington winced away. The sultry touch felt like it could've left marks, yet alone blistering..but at some point Josh leaned into it, gave himself in. It was the first human touch he's felt in weeks.

And it's not even human.

The more he backed up, the closer Michael got to him. At some point, he felt his warmth close to his chest. His eyes refuse to open, he holds his breath as much as he can. For the first time in years he sends a prayer to a God he's sure doesn't exist. Speaking to the imaginary..and yet again that's all he's been doing for the past hour.

"Ge..Get away from me. You..uh, you-, you aren't real." Managing to stammer out. Michael presses down further. Shutting down an airway, for just a second. He lets Josh breathe again. Playing with Joshua's body, with his mind. 

You're fragile.

Josh tried to pull in some air, as if to prepare to speak once again. Michael ceases his attempt by pushing himself onto Joshua. Cutting his air supply with a torrid kiss. It was hateful, it was harsh, it did nothing to raise the libido of the situation. Bitterness leaked through every pore, every movement bred hate. 

Attempting to push, Joshua placed his arms to Michael's wrists, trying to pull him off. To get his scorching fingers off his neck, away from his windpipes..to let air in his lungs. Panic sets in when Michael's stance would not budge. 

His lips were too warm, too suffocating but Josh melted at the spot.

Melt.

His hands become shakier, his mind racks for why it's so warm inside..why does it feel like he's burning?

It clicks. 

-

He sits on the cushioned bed, barley responding to whatever the doctors, the cops, anyone is saying. He's being told the events. How they came upon the most gruesome scene they couldn't have imagined. The call that was made..how he was the only survivor among his friends.

He doesn't get it..he doesn't get it. Mike was fine when Josh got gripped by whatever the fuck was down there, dragged to the depths of hell. He was fine when he watched him get dragged, so how is he dead? 

"Joshua." An elder man's voice rings. Josh's deadpan, pale eyes snap over to look. The only response was a small affirmative hum that he's listening. "Michael Munroe. His parents helped recognize his body from what was recovered, albeit not much. From the fire that sparked, barley any of his remains stood but we're positive it was him. He burned alive."

He burned alive.

He burned alive.

He burned alive.

"You killed me." Michael whispers from behind. 

"T-The fire ki..kille-"

"You killed me!" Mike's grip tightens around Joshua's throat. Josh begins clawing at the skin. Pushing away, scrambling to back up. His mouth hung open as he hyperventilated, hoping for air to crawl to his lungs.

It tasted like ash, it tasted like dust. Smoke began filling the room. Mike's eyes darkened. His skin began reddening..and then peeling..blistering. He began melting. Screaming 'you killed me's and 'it's your fault's over and over. 

And then it stopped. The next time Josh opened his eyes, the wetness of his cheeks called in the cold. It was cold again. 

Why is it cold again? 

The only noise breaking through was the sound of a ringtone. It was his phone. Probably his mom, or the psychiatrist keeping his eye on him.

He'll answer it later, he thinks.

He needs a shirt right now, and some food..and maybe some ice for the forming blisters around his neck.


End file.
